


fight me helen

by ConfusedMuse



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Inspired By Tumblr, PTA Sans, Post-Pacifist Route, Show Creator's Style for Full Effect
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-05-05 10:23:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5371814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConfusedMuse/pseuds/ConfusedMuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Helen had everything she wanted until monsters trespassed onto her precious Overridge Academy. She was determined to keep the PTA free of them as well, but her problems double when a literal skeleton starts attending the meetings...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not At My School

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic for this fandom is a crack fic. I'm not sure what this says about me... In any case, credit for this amazing AU goes to bedsafely on Tumblr! I had a lot of fun thinking this up! I know that the Tumblr tag has declared Linda as the antagonist, but my brain settled on this title and wouldn’t let it go. There won’t be any actual fighting though, it will only be in the metaphorical sense. Right now I’m planning on this being three chapters long, but who knows…?

The truth was that Helen didn’t know what to do with them. 

She’d been concerned when those hellbeasts had started streaming out of the mountain. But she’d handled it like any rational person would, by locking the doors and windows, shutting the blinds, and keeping Landon home from school until events settled down. Her son had complained, but there wasn’t much to lose keeping him home for a few days. Helen would know, since she was the head of the PTA.

She’d worked long and hard to get the position, and now it was her everything. All the volunteering hours handing out snacks at charity runs, organizing the guest lists at the biannual picnic, and making sure that the bake sale was utterly gluten-free so as not to jeopardize her poor sweet Landon had paid off. She was the one who called the shots on after-school policy now. Even with the existence of hellbeasts, Helen was sure that nothing would change in her private garden of weekly meetings. 

At first, she wasn’t wrong.

The school remained the same for the first few weeks. But the rest of the world seemed to accept the devil incarnations overnight, almost like… _magic._  Helen hated that word, and had to hold her cross necklace and say a prayer every time she thought of it, lest she be damned. But acceptance wasn’t the part that she had a problem with. Oh no. It was acceptance at _her school_  that she had a problem tolerating.

After a few months had passed, the malformed demons were actually permitted through the gates! Despite her stern words to the principal and vice principal about how her husband and his donation money would not be happy to hear this when he called to check in on things from his third business trip this year to the Bahamas, they went ahead and let the monsters in anyway, citing some anti-discrimination law.

Helen hated laws that she didn’t make.

When her husband did call, he suggested putting Landon in a different school. And give up her position after she’d worked so hard? Hah!

But there were still things that she could do. She warned Landon against talking with any of them, and moved him out of classes where he had one as a classmate or, heaven forbid, his teacher—just what were the district hiring practices these days?—to ensure that her perfect boy would not be corrupted. And through the PTA, well. She made sure that they got the message loud and clear.

A lot of them showed up at first, but they were not offered handouts of the schedule agenda nor lemon squares from the snack table. When issues regarding school policy were brought to a vote, Helen jumped over them as if they were not there. At one meeting, she enlisted the help of some of the low attendance parents in helping her set up “special seating” for the monster families, putting the worst of the folding chairs towards the back of the room with a sign reading “Monsters Welcome!”

Most of them stopped coming after that. A few stuck it out a bit longer, but lack of numbers meant that their defenses fell faster. The last was a strange armless creature that looked like a dinosaur. Gloria had been the one to drive her out; when the monster had asked about volunteer signups for the silent auction fundraiser, Gloria pointed out that all of the jobs required functioning arms. The abomination had left in tears, and Helen gave Gloria a well-deserved nod of the head when she turned her expectant face in her direction. 

Gloria made for a wonderful second-in-command. She was eager to please and had a barbed tongue that could even rival Helen’s when she put her mind to it. Gloria was also tipsy more often than not and had little ambition in school politics outside of maintaining her current ranking. However, all that meant to Helen was that she didn’t need to fear an uprising from her. They could focus on the attacks from the outside and keep the school they way it was meant to be.

But the next day the principal contacted her.

He said that they were receiving complaints. The PTA was no longer representative of the diverse school community, and that needed to change. Unless Helen wanted to lose her position, the principal warned, she needed to make fast changes. 

So now she was here, trying to make amends by personally inviting every hellbeast parent to the next PTA meeting. For nearly every call, she was hung up on. Helen sipped her mimosa in her armchair with a smile. This was one of the few times she didn’t mind being ignored. If they didn’t come, then the principal couldn’t claim that she didn’t try, and by that logic her hold on the PTA was safe. She just had to get through a few more phone calls.

Helen peered at the next number in the book. The name next to it read: “Frisk Dreemur.” Her eyes narrowed. That sounded vaguely familiar, but Helen couldn’t place it. She shrugged and took another sip of her drink as the number dialed.

The phone only rang twice before someone picked up.

“Greetings. May I ask who is calling?”

Helen perked up at the sound of the voice on the other side of the phone. This one sounded like her favorite kind of parent, malleable and open to suggestions. Not a threat, but an important pack mule to offload the more tedious tasks onto, all in the name of helping their children and their school.

“Yes, hello!” Helen put down the mimosa and smiled even though the hellbeast couldn’t see her. “I’m calling to inform you that there is a PTA meeting this upcoming Tuesday, and we are currently looking to expand our reach to new parents at Overridge Elementary. Will you be joining us?”

“Oh my!” She seemed genuinely surprised. Perfect. “I would love to attend, but I am one of the new teachers at the school, and attending to the students and my child have put quite the strain on my schedule—”

Helen’s lip curled. That must have been where she’d heard the name. She was one of those monster quota hires to make the school more ‘diverse’ and little else. Helen tried to keep the disdain out of her voice. “I _thought_  that the contact name sounded familiar!” she crooned, picking up the mimosa again. “No need to concern yourself, Mrs. Dreemur, the students’ education comes first—”

“Please do not call me that.”

Helen almost dropped her glass. Even through the telephone, that cold wall behind the warm tone made Helen feel like she’d made the wrong judgement on this monster’s behavior. “I-I’m sorry,” she stuttered out before she could recover, and then felt like she was going to be ill. Helen never said that to _anyone_ , let alone monsters.

There was a slight gasp on the other side of the line. “Oh no, please do not apologize! You could not have known,” the monster said, sounding sorry herself. 

“No, it was my mistake,” Helen said, her manners getting the better of her as she composed herself. “And I am genuinely sorry to hear that you cannot attend.” Holding the phone in place with her shoulder, Helen picked up her red pen and struck a line through Frisk Dreemur’s contact information.

“Would it be acceptable if another member of the household attended in my place?” the monster asked.

Helen froze, the hand holding the pen stopping in midair. Her first instinct was to tell the hellbeast that PARENTS were preferred at these meetings—it was in the name—but the chill she’d felt earlier was still settling around Helen’s spine. This wasn’t a monster that would be put off so easily. At the same time, looking at the long list of names with red lines made the principal’s words echo in her head. Maybe her rejection plan wasn’t so foolproof after all. If no one came—

Wouldn’t they just replace her?

Helen shivered. That scared her the most of all.

“That would be lovely,” Helen replied. “Anyone who wants to participate in the child’s education is welcome.”

“How splendid!” the voice on the other end said. “I have just the right person in mind—”

Helen’s lower lip twitched. That was one of the things she liked the least about the monsters. They kept referring to themselves as “people.”

“The meeting will be next Tuesday at four,” Helen said, maintaining her friendly tone. “I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for him or her!”

It took several rounds of “thank you”s before Helen could hang up the phone. She sighed, tilting her head back into her chair as another thought occurred to her. If Dreemur wasn’t the hellbeast’s name, then where had she heard it before?

Helen held her phone above her, opening up the web browser and typing the name into Google just for kicks. She’d gotten some interesting dirt on some of the other parents this way. People in her district had no concept of how things appeared on the Internet. 

Helen dropped the phone on her face when the results came up. She sat up, her hands scrambling to catch it before it fell into her lap. She looked at the picture on the touchscreen again. A plain child with a neutral expression stared back at her through the photo. The caption read: “Human Ambassador for Monsterkind.” Helen blinked. They was nothing about the child that was memorable—and yet, somehow Helen remembered passing them a few times through the school entrance. 

She covered her mouth with her hand in thought. Helen followed the news. She knew how important the ambassador was. But she cared about PTA affairs far more, and somehow she hadn’t noticed that the child attended her school. No wonder the school was pushing so hard to be “inclusive.” 

Helen looked back down at the picture and smiled. Maybe, just maybe, this would work out in her favor after all. It hinged on a few things, but this might be the key to getting the monsters away from her PTA once and for all.

She tossed the list of numbers across the room and picked up the mimosa again. Next Tuesday would be very interesting.

 

 


	2. Not Very PUN-ctual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helen gasped before she could clamp a hand over her mouth. 
> 
> A literal skeleton stood in the doorway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the positive response! How did this get a thousand hits in a week? I wasn't expecting that many people to read this, especially since the story hasn't even got off the ground yet... I'm still not really sure where this is going, but thanks for coming along with me! I hope that you all continue to enjoy it!

Helen sat at the table, drinking in the sounds of the multipurpose room before the PTA meeting began. The low chatter of the people in front of her. The soft rustle of napkins as the final crumbs of the lemon squares were brushed away. The legs of the folding chairs squeaking across the floor when someone shifted their weight to move a little closer towards their neighbor, whispering the latest gossip. 

There were many things that Helen enjoyed about PTA meetings, but the moment before they started had to be her favorite. It reminded her of when she was in theater in high school, just before the lights shone down on the stage. Helen lived for that moment of anticipation before all eyes turned on her. 

The only thing ruining her moment of perfection was the buzzing overhead from one of the faulty florescent lights in the back of the room. It flickered on and off, the bulb unable to decide if it wanted to blow out or not. Even though it was nowhere near the folding chairs, Helen could still see it and it bothered her. She disliked anything short of perfection. She’d have to call someone to take care of it once the meeting was over.

Helen turned her eyes towards the back of the room. Gloria stood next to the doorway, holding a clipboard in her hand. She was in charge of sign-ins, and made sure that everyone important was present before the meeting began. Helen could see Gloria counting the heads in the room under her breath before throwing Helen a thumbs up. That was her cue.

She stood up and looked around, beaming. The whispering stopped, and expectant faces turned towards Helen, waiting. Not a single monster face looked back at her. Helen hadn’t realized how much she’d missed that until this exact moment. She took a deep breath. She wouldn’t have to use her plan after all. It was a little bit of a shame, yet this was for the best.

“Hello everyone!” Helen began. “It appears that everyone has made it, so let’s get this ball rolling!” She made a motion with her hands that resembled a spinning ball and got a few placating smiles in response. Those parents didn’t know it yet, but they’d just made the shortlist for the school dance committee. 

“So!” Helen clapped her hands together. “If you would please take a look at tonight’s agenda—”

A scream interrupted the shuffling of papers. A high pitched echo reverberated off the walls in its wake. The group turned around in unison at the source. Gloria was holding her clipboard over her face like a shield, knees knocking together. Helen gasped before she could clamp a hand over her mouth. 

A literal skeleton stood in the doorway.

Helen caught sight of the wide unmoving smile and the large dark eye sockets first. That skull was far too wide to be a human skull—although of course it wasn’t a human skull, Helen told herself a second later. This was a monster they were dealing with. There was no other explanation as to why a creature from the background of a demonic Hollywood film would be standing in Overridge Academy’s multipurpose room on a Tuesday evening. Helen clutched at the cross around her neck, reviewing the plan inside her head. She had to calm herself and pick the right moment. If things kept going this way, then it was possible that the monster might even play right into her hands.

It turned, and then Helen realized what it was wearing. Her lip curled. A hoodie? In April? She didn’t care if the thing didn’t have skin, there was still a such thing as dressing for the weather. And were those…slippers? Did this monster not care at all?

The skeleton held up their bony hands up towards Gloria in an apologetic way. "sorry, didn’t mean to rattle your bones," the monster said. 

The skull turned towards the rest of the group. Helen took a step back when she saw that there were bright round lights like pupils looking out of its eye sockets. She wasn’t sure if being able to tell where its eyes were made her feel better or worse. 

"is this the, uh, pta thing?" the skeleton asked, the glowing pupils glancing around the room. 

It took a few glances in her direction before Helen realized that she needed to respond. “Yes! Yes, this is the PTA meeting,” she said, trying to regain her composure. She couldn’t show weakness in front of the enemy. Helen flashed her best stage smile. “May I ask your name and the name of the student you are here to represent?”

"i’m sans. sans the skeleton," the monster said. He put his hands inside the pockets of his hoodie. "i, uh, wouldn’t go so far as to say i represent them, but I’m one of frisk dreemur’s guardians." The skeleton winked, sending another wave of panic through Helen— _he doesn’t have eyelids he doesn’t have eyelids how can he do that without eyelids_ —as a few scattered mutters went through the seated group. "you might’ve heard of ‘em," he continued. "my bro says that frisk is getting pretty famous."

“How…lovely for you,” Helen managed to say, not knowing how to respond. “I am glad that you were able to make it to the meeting, Mr. Sans. You’re welcome to take a seat anywhere you like—”

"oh, you don’t have to call me mr. or anything. i’m just a skeleton," Sans said, shrugging.

Helen froze in the middle of her motion to point towards the empty chairs in the back. …Was that a joke? 

“Sans, then,” Helen said once she’d regained her presence of mind. “You are welcome to sit anywhere you would like. The meeting will begin very shortly.” 

He nodded. "if it’s as short as i am, i guess we won’t be here very long," the skeleton said. 

There were a few scattered giggles in the room, and it took all of Helen’s self control to not drop her smile. What was this monster thinking, cracking jokes at her meeting? 

Then Helen heard a snort of laughter from the back of the room. Gloria had emerged from behind her clipboard, giggling as the skeleton walked towards the chairs. Helen threw a death glare in her direction—Wasn’t she the one who’d screamed a minute ago? Why was she laughing at his bad jokes now? Gloria’s smile dropped when she caught Helen’s eye, and she went back to hiding behind the list.

Helen cleared her throat and the noise died down. Thankfully, the skeleton had taken the chair closest to the door. She didn’t have to worry about him right now. She just had to get through the agenda and decide if this meeting was the right time to put her plan into action. 

“Now, once again, if you would please look at your agendas—”

A loud snore reverberated from the back row. Once again, heads turned to stare at the source. The skeleton was slumped over in his chair, chin resting on his bony hand, and large letter ‘Z’s appearing out of nowhere above his head, floating upwards a bit, and then vanishing as if they’d never existed.

Helen could feel a vein starting to stand out on her neck. What kind of devil magic made this possible?

_He can’t snore he doesn’t have lungs he’s literally bones that’s not possible and what are those letters is this a cartoon have I lost control of my sanity am I losing control of my mind—_

Gloria—her lips sucked in and shoulders shaking in a bad attempt to cover up her laugher—walked up behind the skeleton and tapped him on the shoulder with her clipboard. He jumped, the rest of the ‘Z’s disappearing. Gloria whispered something to him, and he said something back. She laughed again. 

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Helen shook her papers in front of her to straighten them. “As I was saying,” she started for the third time, “Please refer to the first item on the agenda involving advertisements for the school’s annual 5K race for charity—”

And off the meeting went. The volunteer list for the race was finalized, the fundraising calendar was updated so that the book fair and the spring parent/student dance would not clash, and the date to discuss the cafeteria’s menu for next semester was set. Helen highlighted the last one on her own copy of the meeting notes—this was the year that she would ban gluten and ensure that Landon could eat whatever his heart desired with getting ill all over the floor of her new car like the last time he’d ingested that poison. 

The skeleton didn’t participate. Whenever Helen glanced towards the back row, either the floating ‘Z’s had returned, or he was drinking something from a red bottle. She decided not to dwell on whether or not skeletons could drink. Part of her wondered if it was alcohol and that was why he was so drowsy. Who could say what kind of effect drinking had on monsters?

Not that Helen really cared. But it was a perfect connection into her plan.

The group grew antsy as they reached the bottom of the agenda. Helen could see people shifting in their seats, examining handbags and phones before glancing at the clock or the door. The ‘Z’s over the skeleton’s head had vanished, but his eye sockets were closed— _how did he do that without eyelids_ —and Helen knew that it was now or never.

“Just one more thing everyone, one more thing,” she said. Helen heard a few sighs, but this time she did not bother looking to see who did not want to participate in her meeting. Their desire to leave would make this easier. “I realize that it is not on the agenda for tonight, but I have something that we need to bring to a vote,” she continued.

Helen dropped her papers onto her chair and clasped her hands in front of her. “Overridge Academy has gone through some big changes this year with the inclusion of our new neighbors,” she said, nodding her head towards the skeleton, who didn’t move. “And while I am sure that their integration into society will be swift, as the PTA we need to be sure that these changes will not have a detrimental impact on our students,” she continued, looking around the room at the blank faces staring back at her. 

“Previously, monsterkind has demonstrated that they do not understand how things work here at Overridge Academy. They also do not demonstrate a desire to engage with the school through our PTA system,” Helen said. She started to pace in front of the table, trying to make eye contact with every person except for the skeleton.“Tonight, our only monster representative seems far more content with sleeping and drinking his…beverage than with engaging in our meeting.” Helen stopped in the center of the group for dramatic impact. “If this is the kind of guardian that the monsters have chosen as a caretaker for their representative, I’m not sure what that means for the rest of them,” she said.

The skeleton’s eye sockets opened a little. There was nothing but darkness underneath. Disturbed, Helen turned the other way. She didn’t need to pay attention to him anymore. He’d already served his purpose as her example.

“Which is one of the reasons why I would like to bring the following to a vote,” Helen continued. “All in favor of the removal of mixed monster and human classes, please raise your hand.”

The flickering light buzzed in the silence. Helen felt a chill pass over her. 

“Anyone?” she asked. She was met with blank stares. Helen laughed a little. “This is our children’s future we are discussing he—” 

She gulped the words back down as she turned her head to the other side of the room. For a split second, Helen was sure that she saw one of the skeleton’s eyes glowing blue and yellow. But then she blinked, and they were back to the glowing pupils from before.

“Um…” Gloria’s voice came from the back of the room. She jumped a little as the eyes of the room shifted towards her. Helen sighed, glad that the pressure was off her for a moment. Gloria drummed her fingers on the sides of her clipboard and sucked in her bottom lip before speaking. 

“I see the point that Helen is trying to make,” she started in a slow, diplomatic way, “but even if we do take a vote on it, that won’t change anything about how the school sets up its classes.”

Helen tilted her head to one side. “Gloria, this is the PTA,” she scoffed. “We are here for the benefit of our children. If we speak up about how we feel about the quality of education in this school, something is bound to change.”

“But we can’t just…kick the monsters out,” Gloria said, curling her fingers near her mouth as if they were picking out her words. “That’s up to the school board. You know this, Helen, we do menus and fundraisers—”

“I just want to know where we all stand on the subject so that I can report any concerns to the principal,” Helen said. Her shirt was starting to stick to her underarms. This wasn’t what she’d expected at all. “And if the monsters don’t want to participate, then I don’t see why we should share.”

"wow, tough crowd." 

The vein popped out on Helen’s neck again. Her smile finally slipped as she locked eyes with the skeleton. “Oh, _now_  you have something to say?” Helen responded. Her tone was harsher than she’d intended, yet it was closer to how she really felt.

The skeleton shrugged. "like i said earlier, i don’t really think of myself as a representative of anything," he said."i’m not really a, um, voluntary participation kind of guy. i’m just here because somebody asked for a favor." His glowing pupils felt like they had pinned Helen to the spot. "so, uh, don’t try to compare all monsters to a lazybones like me. they deserve a lot better than that."

Helen swallowed. Her plan was backfiring. She thought that she would be able to grab the group’s support easily. She was their _leader_  after all. Why were they tolerating this? Why were they just staring at her?

"sure, there are things that we, uh, don’t quite get yet," the skeleton continued. He reached up with a bony hand to rub the back of the skull. "i mean, most of us did grow up beneath a mountain, so we were literally living under a rock."

A majority of the room laughed at that. Helen couldn’t believe this. Did they really think that he was _funny_?

"i mean, isn’t this kind of thing what caused us to get trapped under the mountain in the first place?" he said. "being afraid of each other and dividing each other up?"

The laughter died down.

"i dunno how it is for humans, but monsters tend to avoid places where they’re not welcome," the skeleton said, standing up. "and since i’m the only monster who showed up, that’s says more about this place than it does about monsterkind."

Some people shifted in their seats. Gloria stared at her feet. Helen crossed her arms. Was he done yet?

The skeleton shrugged again. "i’ve talked enough. do whatever makes you happy. monsters’ll figure it out one way or another," he said. He shoved his hands in his pockets and started walking towards the door.

Helen felt rage flow through her like a wave. “Excuse me!” she half-shouted, stomping her foot on the ground. “I have not ended this meeting yet!”

She was breathing hard. Her spotlight had been stolen from her and her plan stopped before it even started. She was not going to let this monster break her meeting rules on top of everything else.

He paused mid-stride and looked over his shoulder at her. Was it her imagination, or had his smile grown wider?

"heh. you sure can pull a funny face, human," he said.

“I am not ‘human,’” she said. “I’m Helen.”

The skeleton waved at her. "hi, helen. i’m sans," he said.

Helen gritted her jaw. “I heard you earlier,” she said.

"so, uh, when’s the meeting going to be over, helen?" he asked. The way he said her name made it feel like something was crawling on her back. 

Helen sighed. “Meeting adjourned,” she said. 

A second later the room was filled with grateful sighs, the rustling of purses and bags, and quiet murmuring as the group left the room. Helen massaged her eyeballs with the heels of her hands. This was one of the worst meetings she’d ever run. Now all she wanted to do was leave.

A light hand patted her shoulder. “All you did was step over the rules a little bit,” said Gloria’s voice. “I’m sorry, Helen, I know you care. I really do.”

Helen pulled away from her, glancing up at the doorway. The skeleton was gone. “Do you think he’ll be back?” she asked. 

It was a rhetorical question—Helen didn’t want to know the answer. Gloria made an uncertain noise behind her. Helen sighed, collecting the papers from her chair. It didn’t matter right now. She had to go get Landon from harpsichord practice.

But she was willing to bet that the skeleton wouldn’t show up again.

* * *

A week later, Helen turned on the lights in the multipurpose room to set up the chairs for the meeting and screamed. The skeleton was leaning against the opposite wall, his glowing eyes burning a hole through her.

"hey helen," he waved. "hope you don’t mind me coming early this time. didn’t want to miss anything."

She opened her mouth to say something, but then noticed a red and white striped bag in the skeleton’s other hand. He held it out to her. "want some?" he asked.

He’d brought popcorn.

Helen had the feeling that this would be a very long school year. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven’t been to a PTA meeting since waaaay back in elementary school when my mom brought me to a few before we stopped going, so I apologize for any inaccuracies in this chapter! 
> 
> Next time: Will Helen gain a sense of humor? (No.) Will Sans stop sleeping at meetings? (No.) Will there be lemon squares? (Yes. Gloria always remembers the lemon squares.)


	3. Not How Gluten Allergies Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helen straightened her papers against the table with a loud tap. “You’re like one of the children,” she said, glaring in Sans’s direction. “You’re only doing that because of her reaction.”
> 
> “what can i say, i’m a sucker for a good audience,” Sans said, shrugging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would say that the delay on this chapter was because of the holidays and readjusting to my work schedule after the New Year, but the truth is that I had a hard time coming up with jokes. So here is an extra long chapter to make up for it. Thanks to everyone who has stuck around! I appreciate that you all are enjoying my nonsense.

Helen stood outside the door to the multipurpose room in the late autumn wind. Leaves whipped around her feet, and she could feel the strong breeze tugging at her hair. She took in a deep breath and opened the door.

For one brief shining moment of insanity, Helen wondered if _this_ would be the week where she became used to the skeleton.

She was greeted by laughter echoing off the floor tiles, reverberating back at her with so much volume that Helen almost stepped back out into the wind. She caught herself and pulled the door shut behind her.

No, this wouldn’t be the week either.

The source of the noise was Gloria, bent over and clutching her stomach next to her tray of lemon squares, gasping in laughter. Helen saw her jump a little as the door slammed shut.

“Oh my goodness,” Gloria straightened up, wiping a tear from her eye. “How are you, Helen? I never get here before you.”

“Just had to drop off Landon at his practice,” Helen said, keeping her smile in place as she crossed the room and looked around, bracing herself. “I take it you were laughing at one of… _his_ jokes,” she said. “Where is he?”

“hey,” said a voice behind her.

Helen jumped and spun around, sucking her lips so that she wouldn’t scream. The skeleton stared up at her with his unmoving grin, as if it was normal to sneak up on someone. She heard Gloria dissolve into another fit of giggles behind her.

Sans pointed at his skull. “i’m not sure if you’ll be- _leaf_ me, but you’ve got a little something ,” he said.

Helen grabbed at her head in panic, feeling something crush underneath her right hand. Had he done something to her hair? Was he sabotaging her appearance so that she’d stop coming to meetings and give up her title out of shame? Helen pulled her hand away, wincing before looking at her palm.

It was the crumpled remains of a leaf from outside.

“i guess the outdoors just can’t _leaf_ you alone, huh? ” Sans said, pulling that red bottle out of his jacket again. Helen shook her head as he walked away, taking his usual seat in the back row.

The sooner this meeting was over, the sooner she could stop questioning her own sanity.

“Sorry, Helen, I was about to tell you you had something stuck in your hair,” Gloria said. Helen looked over her shoulder to see that Gloria had returned to arranging the lemon squares. “I just had to catch my breath a bit after that joke Sans told me. It went like—” She waved her hands in the air for a moment and then giggled. “No, Sans should tell it,” she said.

The skeleton craned his neck over the back of the folding chair. “was that a request?” he asked.

Helen sighed.

“Yes, please!” Gloria said behind her.

His glowing pupils flickered towards her. “you wanna hear it, helen?” he asked.

Helen waved her hand. “Sure. Fine,” she said, walking towards the front of the room.

“ok,” Sans said, stashing his bottle somewhere inside his blue jacket. “what does pta stand for?”

“Parent Teacher Association,” Helen rattled off, placing her bag on the front table. This wasn’t a very funny joke so far. “Why do you ask?”

Sans shook his skull. “nah, i heard it stands for ‘place to avoid,’” he said, making air quotes with his fingers.

Gloria started laughing again. Helen just shook her head, pulling a folder full of papers out of her bag. “The others should be here for the meeting in a few minutes,” she said. “This is no time for jokes.”

“guess i should’ve stuck with the leaf puns,” Sans said, still leaning over the back of the chair. Gloria had to set down the tray of lemon squares thanks to another laughing fit.

Helen straightened her papers against the table with a loud tap. “You’re like one of the children,” she said, glaring in Sans’s direction. “You’re only doing that because of her reaction.”

“what can i say, i’m a sucker for a good audience,” Sans said, shrugging. He didn’t move from his slumped position. Helen sighed and went back to her papers.

“My kids say I have a terrible sense of humor,” Gloria said, crossing the room with the tray. “I love bad and cheesy jokes, although I’m terrible at coming up with them. I’ll have to remember those.”

“if you think my jokes are good, you should hear some of tori’s,” Sans said, only turning his skull. “she’s got some really baaaaad puns.”

Helen stopped rearranging her papers for a moment as her brain tried to process how a skeleton could make a sound like a goat.

“I’ll have to ask her!” Gloria said, causing Helen to snap out of it and stare in her direction.

“Oh?” Helen asked, crossing her arms. “And when will that conversation be?”

Gloria stopped mid-stride, almost dropping the tray. She steadied herself and sucked in her bottom lip, glancing between Helen and the floor before responding.

“I mean…if I ever see her,” Gloria said in the meeker tone Helen knew so well. “Not that I probably will.” She fast walked the rest of the way to the door, setting down the tray and picking up the sign-in clipboard.

The skeleton slid back to a normal sitting position in the chair, pulling out the red bottle again. “i’ll let her know anyway,” he said. “i’m sure you two would have some _pun_ together. ”

Helen shook her head again as she checked to see if the corners on the papers were straight. He really couldn’t read the mood, could he?

Gloria didn’t respond, hiding her face behind the clipboard once again.

* * *

“Our last order of business for today is next month’s bake sale,” Helen said to the group.

She could hear them shifting around in their seats. The good news was that the bake sale more or less ran itself. It was just a question of who would be in charge of sign-ups, set-up, and tear-down. The bad news was that no one wanted to be in charge of these things.

Every other year, this had posed a problem for Helen. Last year, she’d grown tired of being responsible for everything, even if it was in the name of running the PTA someday. But this year everyone else’s desire to just bring in store-bought cupcakes and leave played right into Helen’s goals.

But she still had to ask.

“Would anyone like to volunteer to be the bake sale’s head coordinator?” she asked, clasping her hands together. Helen looked around the room with a smile, gazes dropping down as soon as she made the barest of eye contact.

Just as planned.

“Anyone?” she asked. “Anyone at all?”

At the back of the room, Gloria looked at her leftover lemon squares and started to hold up her hand—

“No one then,” Helen said. Gloria jumped and slapped her hand back onto the side of her clipboard.

First the jokes, and now this. Helen decided that she needed to keep a closer eye on her.

“Well,” Helen clapped her hands together. “Now that’s settled, I would like to remind everyone about our allergy policies before you sign up to bring something. Items with nuts need to be clearly labelled, as well as anything with milk and eggs. And finally!” She beamed at the audience. “I’d like this to be the first Overridge Academy bake sale where all the products are completely gluten free!”

The shuffling in the crowd grew. Most of Helen’s audience had their bags and purses in hand. No one was listening. It didn’t matter. She’d made the declaration, and if they didn’t follow the rules, then she would just throw out whatever they made. “I will have a sign-up sheet on the table here if you already know what you would like to bring,” Helen continued. “Otherwise… The meeting is adjourned!”

The group rose almost all at once, loud chatter breaking out amongst them about needing to pick up their children from various sports practices or tutoring programs. Gloria thanked those leaving for coming to the meeting, offering them the leftover lemon squares. A few people came up to write down their bake sale offerings, Helen watching over them with her wide stage smile.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the skeleton stand up and stretch his arms. Helen sighed internally. This week hadn’t been too bad. Maybe she _was_ getting used to ignoring him after all, or he’d found some way to curb his snoring problem. Either way, she doubted that he wanted anything to do with the bake sale.

Helen blinked. The skeleton was in line to sign up.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It was just a bake sale. She could throw it out if he didn’t follow the gluten rule. Helen exhaled, and when she opened her eyes again, Sans was signing the paper.

“What are you planning on bringing?” she asked.

“eh, not me,” Sans said, glancing up from the paper. “but tori will probably wanna make a pie or something. we also know somebody who’s pretty enthusiastic about bake sales, so you might end up with a bunch of doughnuts or—”

“No gluten,” Helen said, shaking her head. “That will be unacceptable.”

“uh, ok,” Sans said, turning back to the paper. “so i’ll just put down tori’s name, and i’ll have to get back to you on the doughnuts—”

“There will be no gluten at this bake sale,” Helen restated, her voice rising. “My son has a very serious allergy. He cannot be around any gluten products. Even standing near them is bound to make him ill.” She crossed her arms and glared at Sans. “Are you trying to put my son at risk?”

Sans looked back up at her, skull tilted to the side. “uh… you know that monsters don’t make food out of that stuff, right?” he said.

Helen’s eyes narrowed. This was probably just another joke.

“we, uh, didn’t have a lot of space to grow stuff in the underground, so we just used what was already there,” Sans said, waving a hand in the air. “there’s also some magic stuff since our bodies are different, but i never really paid attention to all that.”

“So what _is_ it made out of?” Helen demanded.

“i could ask tori,” Sans said, putting his hands in his pockets. “i think the pie is pretty close to human food.”

“You _think_ so, or you _know_ so?” Helen asked.

Sans shrugged. “frisk eats it all the time,” he said.

“Well. Good for Frisk,” Helen said, her voice dropping back down. “The rest of us have to worry about the well-being of our children.” She pulled the sign-up sheet away from him. “I will not approve your request until I see an ingredient list.”

Sans whistled, sending Helen into another mental free fall about how he could do that without lips.

“i dunno,” he said, “good cooks don’t reveal their secrets. but i’ll ask anyway.”

“You mean good magicians,” Helen corrected, putting a hand on her hip. “Good _magicians_ don’t reveal their secrets.”

“nah, i know what i said,” Sans winked. “if you try tori’s pie, you’ll call her a magician too.”

He turned away and headed for the door before Helen could tell him that wasn’t likely. “see ya, gloria,” he waved.

Gloria waved back. “Goodbye, Sans!” she said.

The door closed behind him, and the multipurpose room went quiet.

Helen sighed with relief. “I always feel better when he’s gone,” she said.

Gloria let out an awkward laugh as she turned towards the tray of lemon squares. “So… Landon can’t be near any food with gluten in it?” she asked, wrapping up the last few remaining treats with care.

“No,” Helen said, arranging her papers back into the folder. “Even just the smell makes him ill.”

Gloria paused, turning around towards Helen with a confused expression. “That…sounds like something different than a gluten allergy,” she said.

Helen sighed. “I think I understand my own son’s allergies, Gloria,” she said.

Gloria turned back around. “My youngest has a gluten allergy,” she said, her voice defensive. “I know how they work.”

“I do not need your input on my son’s medical condition, Gloria,” Helen said, shaking her bag until the folder fit inside. “I read everything that I needed to know about it off Google.”

Gloria whirled back around, mouth open. “Helen… You _did_ take Landon to the doctor when he got sick, didn’t you?” she asked.

Helen snapped the clasp on her bag closed with more force than she’d intended. “I said that I do not need your input,” she repeated, slipping the bag over her shoulder. “I just need to keep it away from him, and he’ll be fine.”

Gloria opened her mouth and then closed it, pursing her lips. Helen raised an eyebrow at her. “Do you have something else you want to say?” she asked.

“No,” Gloria said. She frowned and looked to the side, her hands clasped in front of her. “I’m just reconsidering coming in early to help out next time.”

Helen headed for the door. “That’s up to you,” she said with a shrug. “I’m sure someone else would be happy to take your place.”

Gloria froze, her brow furrowing into a hurt expression. She clenched her fists, then turned in a tight circle towards the lemon square tray. Helen smiled at her back as she passed her.

“Good night, Gloria,” she said.

She didn’t get an answer in return.

* * *

 

Helen was late picking up Landon from harpischord practice. She pulled into the driveway of his tutor’s house as the fading sun burnt the sky a dull orange. Even in the half-light, Helen could see her son sulking on the front steps. His chin rested on his hands, wearing the same frown that Helen had caught on herself in the rearview mirror. It looked like Landon hadn’t had a good afternoon either.

She unlocked the doors and hit the horn twice out of habit even though Helen had seen Landon’s head turn when she’d pulled in. He stood up and shambled his way towards the car, holding onto the straps of his backpack with both hands, head down. Landon opened the backseat door and climbed into the van, slamming the door shut. Helen’s hands tensed on the steering wheel as she waited for the click of Landon’s seatbelt. She pulled out of the driveway a minute later in silence.

Helen glanced in the rearview mirror to see her son slumped over in his seat. “How was practice?” she asked.

“Sucked,” Landon said.

“Landon,” Helen said in her best fake-sweet reprimanding tone. “Use your _positive_ words.”

Landon sighed. “I did not enjoy it, but I know that it is good for me and my future college application,” he said, repeating the inflection of the phrase that she’d taught him years ago.

“Much better,” Helen said, the van coming to a smooth stop at the end of the road as she flicked the turn signal on. “Is there any reason why you didn’t enjoy it today?”

Helen didn’t look back, but she heard Landon shift around in his seat. “Well… I was kind of in a bad mood after school,” he admitted.

She waited until she made the turn and merged with the lane’s traffic before responding. “Did something happen?” Helen asked.

“Well—” Landon started, stopped, sighed, and then started again. “Mr. Fisher had a party for us today since we all got honor roll,” he said. “And he—”

“You mean you all _received_ honor roll,” Helen said. “Remember your grammar, Landon.”

“Because we all received honor roll,” Landon repeated. “But anyway, he brought in doughnuts—”

Helen hit the brakes, swerving to the side of the road. Several cars honked at her as the van came to a stop. She whirled around in her seat, reaching an arm out towards Landon who stared back wide-eyed with surprise.

“Did you eat any?” Helen demanded. “Do you feel sick?”

Landon shook his head.

“Use your _words_ , honey,” Helen said as she gripped his shoulder, breathless. “No, you didn’t eat any, or no, you’re not feeling sick?”

“No, I didn’t eat any,” Landon said, a slight shake in his voice.

Helen exhaled and turned back towards the steering wheel. “Good,” she said, hitting the turn signal again and watching the traffic for an opening. “I’ll have a talk with Mr. Fisher tomorrow about your dietary restrictions.”

“No no no no, it’s not that,” Landon protested, a slight whine replacing the shake. “He asked the class what they wanted, and that’s what they voted on, and Mr Fisher knows I can’t, and he asked me, but I told him not to get me anything different because I didn’t want to be different than the rest of the class… But then everybody noticed that I wasn’t eating any and I got left out anyway.” Landon’s voice shuddered to a stop, and Helen heard him sniff.

Her hands had tightened on the steering wheel again as they pulled back into traffic. Helen wondered if that skeleton would have some sort of smart response for what Landon had just said. In fact, she was sure that he’d respond with disrespect and a failure to empathize, just like he had today when she’d asked for an ingredients list. If only that monster understood that this sort of thing wasn’t one of his _jokes_ , it was affecting children like her poor, sweet—

“Mom?” Landon asked. “Are you mad?”

Helen shook herself out of her thoughts and put her focus back on the road. “Yes, sweetie,” she sighed, “but not at you.” For a moment, the only sound in the car came from the turn signal.

“Is there anything that I can do to make it easier?” Helen said to break the silence. “Your mother _is_ the head of the school PTA, after all.”

The turn signal sounded louder with the second pause.

“No,” Landon said. “I just…kinda wish I had a doughnut anyway. So I could be part of the party.”

“You’re not wrong for not doing something that would have made you ill,” Helen said.

Landon sighed. “No it wou—” he started, but cut himself off.

Helen glanced in the rearview mirror. Landon’s hand was over his mouth.

“Honey? Are you okay?” she asked. Maybe the close proximity to gluten earlier in the day was still affecting him. “Do you need me to pull over? Try not to throw up on the seats again—”

“No, I’m fine, I’m fine, really, it’s not that,” Landon said in a rush. “It…was nothing. Honestly.”

Helen looked at her son through the rearview mirror. He was staring out the window with a somber expression. She looked back at the road, her jaw set.

At the very least, she’d make sure that the bake sale would be a safe place for her son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Helen Is Rude But Sans Doesn't Really Care: anyone curious about how Landon and Frisk would interact with each other?


	4. Not On Her Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear god, there were two of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Sorry for the ridiculously long wait! A lot of things happened between the last chapter update and this one, mostly revolving around me realizing that I bit off a bit more than I could chew fandom-project wise. I have /so many/ things I want to create for Undertale that my attention has been bouncing between several different projects at once. But I never forgot about this one! I'm still kinda amazed that so many people are following something that I started as kind of a joke, haha. And as I was writing the first draft for this chapter (I went through four!) I realized that the story had grown beyond the initial three to four chapters I'd originally planned, and that the focus had gone in a different direction as well. So instead of trying to force it along its original path, I went back to basics and got an outline down. Expect at least five more chapters (not necessarily at this length, but who knows), and hopefully I'll get this story finished before summer is out! Thank you all so much for sticking around and sending me so many nice comments of support and understanding while this fic was on an unplanned break! I hope that it's worth the wait!

“Do I really _have to_ go?” Landon whined.

Helen slammed the car door closed, waiting for the beep of the lock to sound before turning to her son. “We are already here, Landon,” she said, putting the keys back in her purse. She looked down at him to see Landon pouting at the parking lot blacktop, his arms crossed. Helen frowned. “And that is not a very positive attitude to take,” she continued. “Try again.”

Landon’s eyes looked up at her and then back towards the ground. “It’s just…” he started, pausing for a sigh. “We stay here _the whole time_. It’s _boring_. Why can’t I go home after you’re done talking to Mr. Fisher?”

“That’s what happens when the PTA runs an event,” Helen said. “We stay until it’s over.”

Landon made a discontented noise in his throat.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” Helen said. “I’m the head of the group. I have to stay.”

She held out her hand to him and he took it. Landon started swinging their linked palms out of habit as they walked towards the school entrance. “But it’s just parent-teacher conferences,” he said, the whine coming back. “I don’t wanna watch a movie with a bunch of babies.”

“It’s ‘want to,’ Landon, not ‘wanna,’” Helen corrected. She squeezed his hand. “And it won’t be that bad,” she continued. “Gloria’s son Jacob will be there too.”

Landon sighed, but didn’t say anything else.

The pair walked under the giant WELCOME PARENTS sign taped above the doors to the school. The chairs propping the doors open had balloons tied to them—those had been Helen’s idea. Why not make parent-teacher conferences a bit more fun?  
Inside the entranceway, the soft chatter of parents and teachers echoed off the walls. All the classroom doors stood open, a clipboard with a sign-in sheet hanging from the doorknob of each one. Helen looked around, spotting Mr. Fisher’s door and pulling Landon towards it. “We’ll sign in and then get you settled at the movie,” she said, her heels clicking on the hallway floor.

Landon stopped, his hand slipping out of Helen’s. She stopped in front of the door, frowning at Landon over her shoulder. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “You don’t want to talk to Mr. Fisher?”

“I think I’ll just…go to the movie,” Landon said, not meeting her eyes. “Seeya later, mom.”

She opened her mouth to correct him—it was ‘see you’—but Landon had already begun running down the hallway towards the multipurpose room. Helen looked around to make sure no one noticed that it was _her_ son breaking the rules on conference night, and let out a sigh of relief when no heads turned as Landon rushed past them.

She did wonder for a moment why he’d changed his mind, but Helen assumed that a movie must sound better to a child than listening to their parent talk to their teacher.

Helen picked up the clipboard and signed her name. Only three other signatures were ahead of hers on the sheet, but no one was waiting in the short row of chairs outside the door. Helen could hear some soft voices coming from inside the classroom, sentences punctuated by Mr. Fisher’s rolling laugh. Helen didn’t bother peeking in. It wouldn’t be a long wait.

She took the seat right next to the classroom door, folding her hands in her lap and tilting her legs to the side so that her skirt wouldn’t roll up. A few parents and students passed by her, nodding as Helen flashed them her PTA smile. For a minute, it felt like Overridge Academy had gone back to its old self—there wasn’t a single monster in sight. Only normal humans and their normal children wherever she looked along the hallway.

Until her eyes landed on the classroom right across from Mr. Fisher’s.

Helen had to admit that she appreciated the way that the skeleton had tempered her response to monsters. The initial reaction was all internal, which gave her a few seconds to prevent it from bubbling up to the surface. Those few seconds were crucial, because only three months ago Helen would’ve screamed loud enough to shatter the windows if she’d seen a giant goat monster in one of the classrooms at Overridge Academy.

The monster was standing in the doorway, smiling at someone inside and out of view. Their expression seemed soft enough, but Helen’s eyes immediately went to the fangs. _Fangs!_ And horns as well! How many more nightmare scenarios would she be forced to confront while the rest of the world lost its mind? But Helen swallowed the scream as the monster walked out of the classroom and into the hallway. She looked away, hoping that they were just on their way out. Maybe if she pretended not to notice them—

“Thank you so much for taking time to talk to me about next year!” a familiar voice said.

Helen turned her head back so fast that her earrings slapped her cheek. It couldn’t be—

It was. Gloria stood in the classroom doorway on the other side of the hallway, shaking the monster’s hand. The two smiled at each other.

“Feel free to call me anytime,” the monster said, and Helen had another epiphany. She’d heard that voice before on the phone, months ago.

Why in the _world_ was Gloria talking to the monster teacher?

A high-pitched squeal of happiness rang out from inside the classroom, and a second later Gloria’s younger child ran out into the hallway, barefoot and giggling. The three-year-old’s pink dress flared around her knees as she skidded to a stop on the smooth floor. Gloria grabbed her child around the waist and lifted her up, the little girl squealing once again. Helen couldn’t help but cringe a little at the noise. At least Landon had been quiet at that age. The girl quieted down when Gloria leaned her against her hip.

“It was nice meeting you too, Julia,” the monster teacher said to the child. Julia gave them a gap-toothed smile in return. Helen fought the urge to roll her eyes.

Jacob, Gloria’s older son, walked out of the classroom a minute later, hands in his pockets. He was a year younger than Landon, and Helen had never heard him string more than three words together.

The monster teacher turned to him next. “It was good to meet you as well, Jacob,” she said, still smiling. “Even if you are not in my class next year, I have the feeling that you are a bright young man who will do well.” Jacob stared back for a moment, wide-eyed, then smiled and nodded.

Helen could hear a ringing in her ears. There was no way that she’d heard that right. Someone in such a high position in the PTA couldn’t be considering putting her child in a class taught by a _monster_. What was Gloria doing?

Julia turned her head, pointing at Helen. “Hi scary lady!” she shouted.

Gloria jumped, grabbing her daughter’s hand. “Julia, it’s rude to point,” she said. She glanced between the monster and Helen for a second before smiling and waving towards Helen.

Helen knew that smile. It was the same one she used on new parents.

Why was Gloria treating her like a stranger?

The monster turned that soft smile in Helen’s direction. “A friend of yours?” they asked.

“Ah, yes,” Gloria said, bouncing Julia on her hip. “This is—”

Helen stood up and crossed the hallway, holding out her hand before Gloria could finish her sentence. “Helen Hall,” she said, taking the monster’s furry hand. “I’m the head of the PTA here. I believe we spoke on the phone once earlier this year?”

“Oh, yes!” the monster said, her giant paw hands squeezing Helen’s back in a far gentler way than she’d expected. “Thank you so much for welcoming Sans into your group,” the monster continued. “He has told me that your meetings are very entertaining.”

Helen fought to keep her smile natural as the florescent lights in the hallway reflected off the monster’s fangs. “Glad to hear that he thinks so,” she said, dropping the monster’s grip as soon as it was socially acceptable. Helen turned her frozen smile towards Gloria. “You’re taking the next coverage shift at the movie, right?” she asked.

Gloria adjusted Julia’s position on her hip. “I’m taking the kids over there right now,” she said, checking her watch. “Why?” She looked up at Helen with a calm smile. “Do you need to talk to me about something?” she asked.

Helen didn’t know how to react to that either. Only a few days ago she’d warned Gloria about losing her place in the PTA, yet now Gloria was acting like nothing was wrong. Helen was used to Gloria immediately asking what she’d done to upset her when she asked a loaded question like that. But this Gloria wasn’t concerned at all.

She just smiled back at Helen like talking to giant goats was the most natural thing in the world.

“Yes,” Helen said, her tone sounding a bit more irritated than she’d intended to reveal. “But later.”

She turned a stage smile towards the monster teacher. “It was nice meeting you in person, Ms. Toriel,” Helen said. “I’m sure we will have a chance to chat more in the future.”

“A pleasure to meet you as well,” the monster said.

“Mrs. Hall?” a voice called out behind them. Helen turned around to see Mr. Fisher in the doorway, holding the clipboard. His face lit up when he saw her. “There you are! Finally meeting the new faculty, I see!” he said.

Helen nodded at him in answer. She looked back at Gloria. “I’ll head over there after my meeting,” she said. “I’ll look for you.”

She walked back across the hallway, not looking at the monster teacher again. Helen saw Mr. Fisher raise his eyebrows as she passed by him into the classroom, but didn’t think much of it. If she had her way, then she wouldn’t need to talk to that monster ever again.

“Well,” Mr. Fisher said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s just get started then!” He headed around Helen to his desk, weaving through a maze of small desk to get there.

Helen took a moment to pause at Landon’s seat. Every desk was emblazoned with the name of the student it belonged to. It was a nice personal touch that Helen had liked when she’d scouted out Mr. Fisher’s class the previous year. Most of the other classes no longer had that little tradition, citing the age of the students and that they needed to prepare for upper grades where they wouldn’t have a desk to themselves. Helen disagreed. Her son would be able to deal with that once it came. Until then, she liked the small reminders that he was still a child.

Mr. Fisher took his seat and gestured to the chair in front of his desk with a smile. “I’m happy to report that Landon is doing excellently,” he said before Helen could even sit down. “I know that I expressed some concerns about his math retention rates, but his last few major tests have shown a turnaround,” he said, folding his hands on top of the desk and beaming at Helen. “He must have really applied himself at home!”

Helen remembered the late nights she’d spent with her son at the kitchen table, drilling him with flash cards, both of them yawning. “Yes, he has,” she said, smiling back.

“However, now I’m a little more concerned about the social aspect,” Mr. Fisher said, his smile dropping into a serious line. “I’m sure that he told you about our little doughnut party.”

“I appreciate that you offered him a substitute,” Helen said, pushing down the urge to rant at him for putting her son in danger.

Mr. Fisher’s eyebrows knit together in concern. “And honestly, Mrs. Hall, I wish that he took it,” he said. “His classmates aren’t sure what to make of him anymore.”

Helen leaned forward in her chair. “Is he being bullied?” she asked, her hands clenching her purse.

“No, nothing like that,” Mr. Fisher said, shaking his head. “It’s more like… Landon has started self-isolating. His classmates still try to include him, but he talks much less than at the beginning of the year. He’s also started outright shunning one of them.”

“That…does not sound like him,” Helen said, leaning back in her seat. “Which student is he ignoring?”

“Our new monster transfer,” Mr. Fisher said. “I’m sure Landon has mentioned them as well—the class was very excited when they first joined us.”

Helen could hear a ringing in her ears again.

“They’ve also really pitched in to make them feel welcome even though they’re surrounded by humans,” Mr. Fisher continued. “We do a lot of joint classes with Ms. Toriel across the hall as well, but it’s still a little rough on them to be in a class with a completely different species. The kids got that pretty quickly though.”

He gestured with his hands as he spoke. Helen’s eyes followed the movement. She felt like she was watching him from the opposite end of a long tunnel.

“They all get along well.” Mr. Fisher sighed. “Except for Landon. He refuses to even talk to them. And the other kids have come to me with concerns that he might even hate the new classmate.”

Helen sat up straighter.

“Of course, I’m sure that’s not true,” Mr. Fisher continued, shaking his head and his hands. “I heard recently that your inclusion efforts have a monster on the PTA now, Mrs. Hall. Perhaps Landon is just a little scared due to a lack of exposure to monsters. If you don’t mind the suggestion, perhaps you could take him to a meeting? Or at least have a talk with him?”

Helen readjusted her smile. “Of course,” she said. “I’ll be sure to have a long talk with Landon about this.”

Mr. Fisher smiled. “Glad to hear it,” he said. “I know it’s been a rough change for all of us, but I’m glad that Overridge Academy at least can take it in stride. This is the world we live in now. Might as well get along with the new neighbors!”

He laughed. Helen didn’t join in.

* * *

She left the meeting a few minutes later with a detailed printout sheet of Landon’s grades. Helen folded it into a tiny square, putting it in her pocket as her heels clicked down the hallway. Despite buzz in the hallway from the people surrounding her, she felt like she’d become deaf to all other sound than her own shoes. Helen took a sharp turn at the corner, almost walking straight into another student. The parent’s faces didn’t even register to her as she recited her standard apology and went on her way.

At least they were undeniably human.

A moment later the door to the multipurpose room came into view, a colorful sign outside reading MOVIE NIGHT in block letters. ‘Let the family enjoy a movie while you talk to your child’s teachers!’ stated Gloria’s neat handwriting just underneath. ‘Brought to you by Overridge Academy PTA.’

Helen couldn’t bring herself to look at Gloria’s handiwork for long. How dare she talk to monsters. How dare Mr. Fisher let them into his classroom. Didn’t they realize that Overridge Academy was fine without interlopers? Why in the world had they accepted them?

She reached the double doors past the sign, one side propped open. The balloons that Helen had tied to the handle before picking up Landon from practice were deflating. They hovered at about waist-height, matching Helen’s mood.

The room beyond was dark and quiet except for the flickering of the movie on the projector screen and the distant echo of its audio. Helen took a deep breath and walked in.

Hopefully Gloria hadn’t lied about her shift the same way she’d lied about her loyalty.

Helen let her eyes adjust to the dark before looking around. A group of twenty or so children sat on the floor in front of the projector screen, gathered into friend sets of two to five on the large quilt that Gloria had set down earlier that afternoon. Some were chattering and giggling amongst themselves, not paying attention to the movie at all. Helen noticed that some of the louder ones were monster children—apparently they’d never learned how to behave during a movie from wherever they came from.

Helen caught sight of Landon towards the back of the quilt, alone. His eyes had a glazed look to them, and Helen could tell that he was transfixed by the movie. A group of monster children in front of them burst out laughing over something on their phones, and Helen felt a surge of pride when he turned and shushed them.

Yes, she would have a talk with him. Later.

Gloria was leaning against the back wall, saying something to her toddler as the child swung on her arm. As Helen came closer, the child yelled and ran away, hiding behind a stack of unused chairs. She peeked out from behind them, giggling, but Helen didn’t look back at her. Gloria needed to learn how to control her children.

“So,” Helen said, crossing her arms. “You’re considering putting Jacob in the monster class next year?”

Gloria pursed her lips, shaking her head. “Can’t you at least _try_ to be a little less hostile, Helen?” she asked.

Helen’s eyes narrowed. “Did you forget what I told you just the other day?” she asked Gloria.

“No,” Gloria answered, meeting Helen’s glare. “In fact, I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

The two of them stared at each other, Gloria’s frown illuminated by a flash of light from the screen.

“You need to see this from my perspective,” Helen said, putting a hand to her chest. “I thought that you understood why blindly accepting the monsters was a bad idea. They’ll change _everything_.“

Gloria shook her head again, but Helen continued. “The class sizes will go up,” she said, holding up fingers as she counted. “Monster faculty won’t be able to understand a human student’s wants or needs. How could they? We’re different _species_ , Gloria.” She held up a third finger. “And accidents will increase. Didn’t you see the paper this morning? About a school just one town over? That child was _absorbed_ , Gloria, he could have _died_.“

Gloria looked back at Helen, the laughter from the monster kids echoing off the walls. “Exactly,” she said. “That was an _accident_ , Helen. Not intentional.” She raised her hand towards the group behind Helen. “They’re _kids_ , with families like ours. They’re not the big problem that you’re making them out to be.”  
Helen nodded, crossing her arms once again. “I see,” she said. “This is exactly what I was afraid of.”

Gloria raised an eyebrow at her.

“They’ve blinded you,” Helen said. “They’ve used their magic or whatever it is that’s causing society to believe that this is a good thing. Gloria, just because you like that skeleton’s jokes—”

Gloria held up a hand. “Stop, Helen,” she said. “Just stop. You’re going to embarrass yourself if you keep this up.”

“Oh? Is that actually the reason?” Helen asked, sarcasm dripping into her words. “Gloria, you could’ve just _said_ that you’re doing this to keep up social appearances. But to put your son in a position like that—what will it do to his education?”

“I believed what you said because I was worried about my family,” Gloria said, her voice starting to shake. “But when I actually started talking to them, I realized that I was just taking your word for it. And I started realizing how much you were controlling my life.”

Helen felt her eyes bulge. “Controlling?” she said. “Me?” She laughed. “Gloria, I’m only holding you up to PTA standards,” Helen said.

“No, you’re not,” Gloria said, the waver disappearing. “Helen…please just listen.” She took a step closer to her.

“What are you going to do when Landon leaves this school someday?” Gloria asked in a whisper only Helen could hear. “Are you going to try to hold on, or do it all over again at his new school? Are you going to just keep playing these games?”

An exploding sound effect echoed from the movie behind them. “Is the PTA a _game_ , to you, Gloria?” Helen whispered back.

Gloria sighed and stepped away. “Helen, Overridge Academy isn’t _changing_ ," she said. “It’s already changed.” She straightened her shoulders and looked straight back at Helen. “I’m planning on requesting Ms. Toriel to be my son’s teacher for next year,” Gloria continued. “If my choices about my own son’s education bother you that much, then just remove me from the PTA. Doing what’s best for my children is more important to me.”

Helen could only stare back. The threat that had worked so well only a few days ago was evaporating right in front of her. She couldn’t comprehend it.  
Didn’t Gloria care about the PTA as much as she did?

“They’re good people, Helen,” Glora sighed. “And whatever you have against them… You need to let it go.”

“But that’s the problem,” Helen hissed. “They. Are. Not. People!” She almost bit her lip in anger, sucking in air through her nose. Gloria stared back at her with an expression that took Helen a moment to read.

Was she looking at her with…pity?

Gloria sucked in her lips and looked at the floor. “Helen, do you remember how we met?” she asked, looking back up.

Helen didn’t answer. She stared at a spot on the wall, wondering how she’d missed it when she’d cleaned the place that morning.

“You were the first person to greet me when I came to a meeting,” Gloria continued. “We’d just moved here, and I had no friends, so it was nice to see a smiling face. It was nice…to be welcomed.” She paused. “I got so caught up in the PTA that when the monsters first came, I…forgot about that feeling. It was wrong of me to turn them away when I know firsthand what it’s like to try to find a place to belong after going somewhere new.”

Helen heard Gloria’s heels scrape across the linoleum. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to prove,” Gloria said next to Helen, “but you’re making yourself look silly.” Helen felt a light pat on her shoulder. “Let me know when the person who used to smile and welcome people with open arms comes back.”

The sound of Gloria’s heels resumed, and Helen followed it with her ears until she heard it stop at the door. Helen looked over her shoulder to see that Gloria had taken her usual position between the door and the ever-present table. Helen could almost see the lemon squares.

She shook her head, leaning against the part of the wall Gloria had left empty. Helen tried to calm her breathing. She didn’t want to upset Landon when they would have their talk later. All she could do right now was hope that Gloria would see reason soon.

However, there was a little voice in the back of Helen’s mind, whispering to her…

_What if she’s right?_

Julia burst out from behind the chairs, screaming. A few of the children watching the movie turned their heads, but looked back at the screen once they saw that it was just a little girl. Julia ran across the room, scream-laughing as she headed towards the door. Gloria leaned over to try to grab her, but missed by an inch as the child continued running right into the hallway—

“woah, look out little kiddo,” a familiar voice said.

Helen felt her lip curl.

Sans caught Julia in his bony hands, lifting her up in the air. She stared back at the skeleton with wide eyes.

Helen waited with a smirk. Any second now, the kid would start screaming—

Instead, she thrust a hand inside one of Sans’s eye sockets.

Gloria gasped, and Helen clamped a hand over her mouth. It was as if Julia’s hand had disappeared, like the void in Sans’s eye socket had cut it off at the wrist. Helen

thought about the student who’d been absorbed. What if this was also—

Sans laughed. “heh. watch it kid,” he said. “you’re gonna put my eye out.”

Julia giggled in response, pulling her hand back. Helen breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that all her fingers were still intact. While that would have been an incredible “I told you so” moment, Helen disliked being proved right through child injury.

Gloria took her toddler back from the skeleton with an apology. Helen looked away, shaking her head. Landon shushed another loud talker. She could hear Gloria and Sans still speaking to each other in the background, but the movie had entered an action scene, so she could only pick up a word here or there. She started wondering if she should just ignore them for the rest of the evening. Gloria already knew that she was upset with her, and any interactions with Sans would just increase her frustration. Maybe it would be for the best if she just—

“So _this_ is Frisk!” Gloria said.

Helen didn’t even look. She still felt the same about the “ambassador” as she had when she’d looked up their name after that phone call. She glanced back towards Landon. The other groups around him on the quilt had scooted away from him, leaving an empty ring of blanket around him. Mr. Fisher’s words about Landon isolating himself floated into her mind. Clearly he had that backwards. If only the other human children would understand—

“IT IS NICE TO MEET YOU TOO, HUMAN!”

Helen jumped at the sound of the new voice coming from the entrance. Judging by the lack of volume control and use of the term “human,” it was probably yet another monster. Helen closed her eyes, holding back a sigh. Rubbing her left temple, she looked back up at the entrance to the multipurpose room. What kind of abomination did she need to scare off this—

Dear god, there were two of them.

Yet another skeleton stood next to Sans. At first glance they were visual opposites—where Sans was short and round, this one was tall and thin. The smile was just as big, though. However, Helen had no clue what this one was wearing. It looked like something out of a superhero movie. Were those gloves or oven mittens on their hands? They were so large that she couldn’t tell.

Helen watched with disdain as the second skeleton shook Gloria’s hand with enthusiasm. The monsters were closing in on all sides. She’d lost someone she’d considered her biggest ally. And now _this_.

No. She couldn’t let this stand. One of them was more than enough.

Helen squared her shoulders as the skeletons and their small charge made their way over to the group watching the movie. The child ambassador was greeted with enthusiastic waving by a good portion of the group, and soon they were surrounded by a combination of humans and the noisy monster children from earlier on the quilt. Helen felt a flash of frustration as she watched them, her jaw tightening. Why couldn’t they be that welcoming towards Landon?

The skeletons stood near the back, the taller one swinging its arms. Before she could blink, Sans was leaning on the wall next to her.

“hey helen,” Sans said with a lazy one-handed wave.

“Hello, Sans,” Helen said. The skeleton’s glowing pupils were even more disconcerting in the darkness of the multipurpose room.

“have a good conference?” Sans asked, putting his bony hands back in his jacket pockets.

“Yes,” Helen said, stretching her smile a bit. She could _feel_ the joke coming, even though she couldn’t guess what it was yet. “Landon is doing very well.”

Sans nodded. “glad to hear that he’s an aggressive learner,” he said.

“What?” Helen asked.

“the kid must’ve really _hit_ the books ,” Sans said with a wink.

For a moment, Helen thought that she’d slipped and had groaned out loud, but then she noticed the taller skeleton dragging his oven mitt hands down his face. He was still standing towards the back of the children’s group, but he was close enough to hear them. “SANS, YOU PROMISED NO MORE JOKES AFTER WE LEFT HER MAJESTY’S CLASSROOM,” he said.

Sans shrugged. “couldn’t help it, bro,” he said.

“This is your…brother?” Helen asked. She’d only started to turn her head in the other skeleton’s direction when he crossed the floor in a few long strides. The skeleton grabbed her hand, shaking her arm up and down like an overexcited puppy with a new stick.

“I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS!” the skeleton said. “YOU ARE THE THIRTY-SECOND HUMAN THAT I HAVE MET SINCE COMING TO THIS PLACE!” He turned his smile towards Sans. “YOU WERE RIGHT ABOUT COMING HERE, BROTHER!” he continued. “I HAVE MADE SO MANY NEW FRIENDS TONIGHT!”

It took everything in Helen’s self-control to not physically recoil.

“glad you’re having a good time, pap,” Sans said.

“INDEED!” Papyrus said, pulling back. Helen folded her arms, pushing her back against the wall so that she could be as far away from the monster as possible without leaving the area.

“NOW, IF YOU WILL EXCUSE ME, HUMAN,” the skeleton continued, one hand in the air, “I MUST GO AND SEE HOW YOUR MOVIE HOLDS UP AGAINST METTATON’S CINEMATIC MASTERPIECES. I HAVEN’T FOUND ONE YET, BUT I APPLAUD HUMANITY’S EFFORTS ALL THE SAME!”

He spun around on one foot, climbing over the children until he sat down next to Frisk. The children behind him shuffled into new spots so that they could see the screen.

Landon was still alone.

“had a feeling we’d run into you here,” Sans said. “this whole thing your idea?”

Helen didn’t look away from Landon’s back. “It was,” she answered. “I started it a few years ago.” She blinked, suddenly remembering who she was talking to. “And what are you doing here?” Helen shot back. “You don’t seem like the type who would expend the energy to discuss your…ward’s academic future.”

“ouch,” Sans said. Helen heard a slight popping sound, and looked over to see that he was holding one of those easy-squeeze ketchup bottles from the supermarket instead of his usual tall one that looked like they’d come straight from a diner. “i guess i can agree that i don’t look the part,” Sans shrugged, moving the cap back, “but i value the kid getting a good education. i do show up at your meetings, you know.”

His mouth hadn’t moved, but Helen would’ve sworn on her parent’s grave that he was smirking at her. She looked back towards the screen. The shadow of the top of the taller skeleton’s skull could be seen at the bottom of the projection.

“If you’ve finished Frisk’s conference, why not go home?” she asked.

“toriel’s gonna be here for a while,” Sans said. “and the flyer said to bring the family, so i did.”

Helen turned her head back to him to find that both his eye sockets were closed. The ketchup bottle was still clenched in his hands. “We are screening a movie, not offering a nap zone,” she said, her frustration bubbling up.

Sans cracked open one eye socket at her and shrugged. “why not both?” he asked.

Helen shook her head. “Never mind,” she said. “But since you’re here, there is something that I need to ask you about, Sans.”

“ok,” Sans said.

“If you did expect to see me, then you must have the ingredient list that I asked from you,” Helen said.

Somehow, Sans’s stare became even more unblinking. “the what,” he said.

“The ingredient list,” Helen repeated. “For the bake sale.”

Sans stared at Helen for a moment and then looked up at the ceiling. “oh yeah,” he said.

Helen frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?” she asked.

Sans looked back at her and winked. “i forgot to ask,” he said.

Helen sighed, pressing her fingers to her temples. “It may be…” she paused, gesturing in midair, “ _difficult_ for someone without internal organs to understand, but allergy cases can be very serious for humans.” She folded her hands in front of her. “I am only doing what is best for Lan—the children.” She felt herself blush at her slip of the tongue, but Helen hoped that the intensity of her glare towards the skeleton would make up for it.

Sans shrugged again, lifting the ketchup bottle to his…teeth? She could see the ketchup disappearing through the clear plastic, but Helen had no idea how he was drinking it. After a long moment of silence, Sans lowered the bottle and closed it with his free hand. “you could ask toriel yourself,” he said. “i heard you two officially met a little earlier.”

“Yes, we did,” Helen said, bringing herself back down to a normal tone. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Landon shifting in his spot, trying to crane his neck to see over a monster child’s horns.

“besides, no one said that you _have_ to eat the snail pie, helen, ” Sans said.

Helen whipped her head around. She stared back at the skeleton in disbelief, eyebrows pulling together. “Is that what you eat?” she asked. “Ketchup and snail pie?”

Sans shrugged and winked. “well, they’re not the _only_ things, but i guess so, ” he said. Now it felt like his unchanging grin was mocking her.

Helen set her jaw. Did he _ever_ answer a question directly?

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “There will be no gluten products _nor_ unidentified monster food at this bake sale,” Helen said. “Is that clear?”

“hey, not my call,” Sans said, tilting his skull towards the ceiling. “you’ll really be missing out though.”

Helen opened her mouth to reply, but Sans had vanished. She looked around, wondering if this was yet another joke, but then spotted the back of his hoodie sitting next to the taller skeleton. Helen let out a breath and looked up at the projector, hoping that the movie would end soon.

* * *

Gloria and Helen didn’t speak for the rest of the evening, and the skeletons and the ambassador left while Helen had her back turned. The good thing about the movie was that cleanup was easy; Gloria simply had to reclaim her quilt and DVD. Once the lights were off, they were done. Helen welcomed the silence. This night had been far more eventful than she’d expected.

Helen took Landon’s hand again in the parking lot, walking along to the sound of crickets. “Honey, why didn’t you tell me about your monster classmate?” she asked.

She felt her son tense, and he looked down at his shoes. They passed under a buzzing streetlight. “I thought you’d get mad,” Landon said.

“Why would I get mad?” Helen asked.

“Because!” Landon said, looking back up at his mom, eyes wide. “You talk about how terrible they are all the time… And I don’t talk to them, I promise,” he said, looking back down at his feet. “But…since I didn’t tell you right away, I just…didn’t know _when_ to tell you.”

“I’m not mad at you, sweetie,” Helen said. “It’s not your fault. It’s the school’s for putting you in this position.” She sighed. “But I wish you’d told me earlier. Maybe there is something I can do about it through the PTA.”

“Like what?” Landon asked, starting to swing their hands like he had at the beginning of the evening.

“I don’t know yet,” Helen said, brow creasing, “but the lines need to be drawn. They’re changing the school, making everyone go along with _them_ when it should be the other way around. This is the human world, not that…cave or whatever they crawled out of.”

Helen saw Landon nod next to her and smiled. “We just have to stay strong, Landon,” she continued. “Don’t let them drag you along into their games, whatever you do. In the meantime, I’ll start petitioning the principal for a guaranteed all-human class for next year.”

“But Mom, I’m going to Outlook Middle next year,” Landon said.

Helen squeezed Landon’s hand. “Right,” she said. Her stomach felt cold for some reason. “Of course you are. …What did you think of the ambassador?” she asked, trying to change the subject.

“They’re kinda weird,” Landon said with a shrug. He wrinkled his nose. “Why would anybody _want_ to live with monsters?” he asked.

Helen laughed as they reached their car. “Who knows,” she said, letting go of Landon’s hand to fish her keys out of her purse. “They’re certainly part of the problem here, that’s for sure,” she added under her breath.

“I’ll stay away from them too,” Landon said, smiling up at her. “And, Mom? You really do work hard.”

Helen smiled back at Landon, patting his head. “It’s all for you, sweetie,” she said. “Mark my words, I’ll make a place for you where you won’t feel left out. Not for not talking to the monsters, not for your allergy, not anything.”

Landon smile faltered for a moment, but he nodded back at her with a grin. Helen unlocked the car doors, determined to start writing the agenda for the next meeting as soon as she got home.

She’d need a new Vice President soon.


	5. Not At My School 2: Electric Boogaloo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The well being of _my_ child comes first," Helen said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Sorry for the delay again—I was getting ready for Anime Expo, and then got caught up in a few other projects that I’d like to finish before the end of the summer, but I’m back on track now! Things begin to reach a boiling point in this chapter—I hope that you all enjoy it!

Landon jumped when the bell rang.

“Pass your papers forward, folks!” Mr. Fisher called out cheerily from the front of the room. “We’ll go over the answers once you’re back from lunch!”

The end of his sentence was punctuated by the sound of papers rustling, chairs being pushed back, and zippers closing up bags. Chatter grew throughout the room as the students turned in their papers and started to leave for lunch.

Landon placed his pencil back inside its clean blue case, holding out his paper to the person sitting in front of him with his other hand. Without looking at him, his classmate took the paper and passed it forward. Landon sucked in his lips and turned towards his backpack, readjusting its position on the chair. It had started to fall off.

He opened the front pocket and pulled out his lunchbox as his classmates started to leave. A large group walked between the desks next him, one of them bumping his shoulder as they passed. Landon stared after them, opening his mouth to say something, but stopped when he caught sight of a scaly tail dragging on the ground in the middle of the group. He turned away, waiting for them to walk through the doorway before standing up himself.

“Doing okay there, Landon?” Mr. Fisher asked behind him.

Landon jumped and spun around, already shaking his head before he met his teacher’s gaze. “I’m fine!” he said.

Mr. Fisher crossed his arms, but was still smiling. “Gonna go sit with your friends at lunch?” he asked.

“Yep,” Landon nodded, looking away.

“Y’know, your friends can come eat in here with you if you’d rather not be in the lunch area,” Mr. Fisher said, leaning against the front of his desk.

Landon shook his head, his fingers tightening around the handle of his lunchbox. “That’s okay!” he said. “I should, uh, go before all the seats are gone.” Landon turned and ran out of the room before Mr. Fisher could say anything else.

Even though it had only been a few minutes since the bell rung, the hallways were almost empty. Still, everyone Landon could see had a friend or two walking with them. They weren’t all alone like he was. Landon let one hand go from the handle of his lunchbox, willing it to swing normally by his side.

He just had to stay strong, like Mom said.

Landon heard the lunchroom before he even reached the doors. They were thrown open, the noise from inside spilling out into the rest of the school. It looked like the long blue tables were packed already.

Landon hesitated a few feet from the entrance, spotting fuzzy ears, tails, and scales almost everywhere he looked. The monsters were laughing and talking with the rest of the students as if this was normal.

He swallowed. The lunch room felt like a trap waiting to happen.

_Stay strong._

Landon squared his shoulders and walked into the lunch room, looking around for a familiar face that wasn’t from his classroom. He speed walked past the monsters down the main isle between the lunch tables. A few heads turned his way for a moment, but most went back to their food with a shrug.

A burst of laughter came from nearby. Landon looked to see the monster from his room still surrounded by the same classmates from earlier, all of them giggling together.

Even though he had no proof, Landon couldn’t shake the feeling that they were laughing at him.

As Landon looked away, he spotted a chance. Sitting at the end of one of the tables, a space taken up by his backpack next to him, was Jacob. He was eating a PB&J sandwich, frowning the way he always did.

Landon hesitated again, but he couldn’t see any more free seats nearby. He walked up to Jacob with slow steps, stopping right behind Jacob’s backpack.

Landon cleared his throat. “Uh, hey,” he said.

Jacob paused mid-chew and glanced up at Landon. He sighed through his nose and swallowed. “What?” he asked.

“Is this seat taken?” Landon asked, pointing at it.

“Yeah,” Jacob said, turning back to his sandwich.

“By who?” Landon asked.

Jacob lowered his sandwich before he could take another bite. “By my bag, obviously,” he said, rolling his eyes.

Landon squeezed his lunchbox to his chest. “That’s rude,” he said. “Your bag doesn’t need a seat.”

Jacob turned around, leaning one elbow on the table. “Look,” he said. “Our moms aren’t friends anymore, so we don’t need to pretend to get along.”

Landon took a step back. “That’s…not what I meant,” he said. “I just wanna eat my lunch.”

“Then sit somewhere else,” Jacob said, turning back around.

Landon stood there for a moment. He could feel his arms shaking a little.

He heard a giggle somewhere in the noise behind him.

“Nobody wants to sit next to racist Landon, anyway,” a voice said.

Landon spun around. “Who said that?” he shouted, his voice cracking.

The giggling grew louder, but he could see several people laughing in his direction now, so he couldn’t guess who’d started it.

“I said—”

_Squelch._

Something sticky and slimy hit the back of Landon’s head, and for a moment the area surrounding him was silent. Landon reached one hand around the back of his head, grimacing as his fingertips touched something cool and gooey. When he pulled his hand back around, his fingers were covered in a thin green slime.

“Maybe you’ll like monsters a bit more now that you’re closer to one!” an unfamiliar voice called out.

The lunch tables resounded with a chorus of ‘Oooh’s as Landon felt whatever it was begin to move against his head. His lunchbox fell from his hands.

“Get it off me!” Landon screamed. He reached his hands behind his head, trying to pull the monster off of him, but all he grabbed were clumps of slimy goo that oozed out of his grip.

“It’s gonna absorb me!” he shouted, feeling it move like a suction cup against his scalp. “GET IT OFF! PLEASE!”

Landon spun in a circle, but all he could see were laughing faces. He kept shouting, but no one did anything. He could feel tears running down his face, and the embarrassment of crying in public added on to the humiliation he already felt. The lunch room became a blur.

“Leave me alone,” he sobbed. “I only wanted—”

Someone grabbed Landon’s arms before he could finish his sentence.

He pulled back out of fear—were the laughing kids going to beat him up now too?—but the grip on his wrists wouldn’t let go. Landon looked up, his eyes blurry with tears.

Jacob stared back at him, still frowning.

“Wha—” Landon started, but Jacob shook his head.

“Stay still,” he said.

And then the slimy thing popped right off Landon’s head.

Jacob let go of Landon’s arms with another sigh and walked away. Landon turned around, expecting to see whatever gooey thing that had latched on to him in Jacob’s arms, but his hands were still clean. Landon continued to turn. If Jacob hadn’t taken the monster off him, then who—

Standing behind Landon, cradling the pile of goo in their arms and smiling up at him, was Frisk Dreemur.

They tilted their head down towards the quivering piece of goop and patted it softly, moving their hips from side to side at the same like a strange dance. The slime wiggled back as well and made a strange noise.

Satisfied, Frisk wiped one of their hands on the bottom of their shirt before holding their palm out towards Landon. They smiled, not saying anything, but the gesture spoke just as well.

_I’m sorry that they did that to you. You can come sit with me._

Landon looked at Frisk’s hand and then back at their face. “Are you kidding me?” he said.

Frisk tilted their head to one side, eyebrows dropping in confusion.

“Do you really think that it’s that easy?” Landon continued. His throat felt dry. “This is all _your_  fault, you know.”

The area around them grew quiet again. Landon’s voice rose.

“None of this would be happening to me if it weren’t for you and those…those stupid monsters!” Landon continued, his hands balling into fists. “Everything was fine. I didn’t have to worry about making friends, or my grades, or Mom—“ He cut himself off with a shake of his head.

Landon could hear muttering around him, but he cared less about what other people thought with every passing second. “I could’ve died just now!” he shouted at Frisk, his voice cracking again. “Why does anyone think this is safe? Why did you do this to us? We were here first, so why can’t you go back to your real family or take the monsters back to that cave you all crawled out of?”

He could hear his voice echo off the now-silent lunch room walls. “Well?” Landon said, raising his arms. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

Frisk didn’t drop their hand, and their smile was still the same.

_I’d still like to be your friend._

“DON’T FEEL SORRY FOR ME!” Landon yelled. “IF YOU WERE SORRY, THEN YOU’D LEAVE AND TAKE THEM WITH YOU!”

He lunged forward, throwing his fist towards Frisk’s face—

—And in the second before it connected, he could see that they were still smiling at him.

* * *

Helen threw open the door to the front office. She heard it slam against the wall behind her, but she didn’t stop until she’d reached the receptionist’s desk. Slamming her hands against its surface, she leaned over the secretary’s computer monitor, causing the person to jump. “Where is he?” she demanded.

“Who?” the secretary asked, holding her hands in front of their chest as if they expected Helen to jump at them. Helen had never seen them before. They must be new.

“My son,” Helen said. “He was in a…fight during lunch.” She started blinking back tears. “I got the phone call a few minutes ago and I came as fast as I could.”

“O-oh,” the secretary said, dropping their hands a little. “They’re waiting in the back near the principal’s office, but it should be fine for a parent to—”

Helen didn’t wait for them to finish, She left the secretary and pushed open the door on the other side of the desk labelled STAFF ONLY.

“Wait!” they called out behind her. “You need a pass before—!”

The door slammed shut behind Helen as she raced through the hall, darting around other secretaries and students working as office assistants as they appeared through the connecting doorways. She knew that the principal’s office was at the very end of this beige-colored track, just beyond the only turn in the hallway.

Helen tried to calm herself as she raced her way there. This was a good sign. Landon wasn’t in the nurse’s office, which meant that whoever beat them up couldn’t have hurt them too much—but even the thought of someone attacking her son made Helen feel like she was on fire.

Whoever it was, that child would regret putting their hands on her son inside of _her_  school.

Helen reached the corner, turned, and stopped. There were two rows of chairs against either wall leading up to the principal’s door. Sitting on one, shoulders shaking and hair coated with something sticky and green, was Landon.

“Oh god,” Helen breathed.

She kneeled in front of her son, squeezing his hand and brushing his blond bangs out of his face. Landon continued to sob, snot running out of his nose. She felt his hands shake in hers as he tried to say something.

“Shhhh,” Helen said, patting his head. “It’s all right baby, everything is going to be all right.” She reached into her purse for a pack of tissues. She ripped off the plastic seal to pull out a few, wiping her son’s nose with them.

“Tell me exactly what happened,” Helen continued. “Where did they hurt you?”

Landon shook his head and hiccuped. His shoulders shook as he pulled his chin towards his chest, his face still red and scrunched up as he kept crying.

“My poor baby,” Helen said, continuing to wipe his tears away. “There’s nothing to worry about. You’re not in trouble. Just tell me everything that happened and we’ll get this all sorted—”

A sound like someone crumpling a plastic bag came from behind Helen. She turned around, wondering who was eavesdropping on her son’s pain. The principal’s waiting area was supposed to be a private place—

Frisk Dreemur sat on the chair opposite them.

They were shifting in their seat, holding a bag of ice against their right eye. It made a crinkling noise as Frisk moved and readjusted their grip on the bag. Once they’d settled down, they smiled and gave Helen a little wave.

Helen’s mouth set itself in a line as she turned back towards Landon. He was still shaking and sniffling, but the sobbing had stopped.

“Landon,” Helen said, putting a hand on her son’s cheek. “You acted in self-defense, right?”

He stopped sniffling for a moment to meet her gaze, but Helen could already see fresh tears forming in his eyes. He opened his mouth and a half-sob came out as the new tears overflowed and ran down his cheeks. Landon shook his head, dropping his face down once more.

“Landon?” Helen asked, trying to peer into his downturned face. “What does that mean? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what happened.”

Landon kept turning away from her, but he still gripped at her hands. Panic rose in Helen’s chest again. What in the world happened? There had to be some piece of this that she misunderstood. There was no way that her son would _attack_  someone for no reason…

A low whistle sounded behind Helen.

“not that it’s news to me, but you sure can take a hit kid,” a familiar voice said.

Helen looked over her shoulder so fast that she heard her neck pop.

Of course the skeleton was there, sitting in the seat next Frisk that had been empty seconds before as if he’d been there all along. Helen hadn’t even heard him walk in—assuming that he _had_  walked and hadn’t pulled one of his strange teleportation tricks.

Sans held the ice pack a little bit away from Frisk’s face, peering at their eye with his glowing pupils. Even from her limited viewpoint, Helen could see that Frisk’s eye was black and blue.

Sans placed the icepack back over Frisk’s with a gentle turn of his wrist. “just hold that there until toriel and papyrus get here,” he said.

Helen wasn’t sure if he was ignoring her or not. She squeezed Landon’s hands and then cleared her throat.

Sans’s pupils flickered towards her. “hey helen,” he said. He sounded like they were at just another PTA meeting.

Helen ignored his tone. “Do _you_  know what happened?” she asked in a stage whisper, going back to squeezing Landon’s hands.

Sans shrugged. “nope,” he said. “just got a call at the house about frisk getting into a fight. which, uh, sounded kind of out of character for them.” He looked away for a moment as Frisk readjusted the ice pack once again.

“sure you’re ok there, kid?” he asked Frisk. They nodded and smiled back at him.

Helen felt her lip curling. “Landon isn’t the type to start fights either,” she said in as cool a tone as she could manage. “ _Something_  must have provoked him.”

Sans shrugged again. “well, frisk is more the kind of kid who finishes fights than starts them,” he said.

For a second, Helen thought she saw a spark of blue in one of the skeleton’s eye sockets, but he closed them before she could be sure.

“and they’re the one with the ice pack,” Sans continued, holding his palm out towards Frisk. “which doesn’t exactly make student of the month over there look—”

He was cut off by the sound of large footsteps rushing down the hallway. The floor shook underneath Helen’s knees. She stood up to look around the corner—

And pulled back just before a white and purple blur knocked her over.

Helen fell back into one of the seats next to Landon, her hands up in the air out of surprise. She blinked a few times before she realized that the giant mass had stopped in front of the human and the skeleton. She blinked again before she recognized the horns.

“Oh my dear, poor child,” Toriel said, kneeling in front of Frisk’s chair the same way that Helen had for Landon. Her furry hands almost engulfed Frisk’s face. “Let me see,” she whispered to them, but still loud enough that Helen could hear.

Helen wrapped an arm around Landon, and he clung back to her in a second. Helen patted his head and looked back at the monsters. She held Landon closer when she noticed some kind of green light coming out of Toriel’s hands.

“Thank you for coming here so quickly, Sans,” she said, moving her hands over Frisk’s face as they squirmed. “I did not know that Frisk had been in the fight until after class had begun. And then I needed to let Mr. Fisher know about the situation…”

Sans shook his skull. “you should thank papyrus,” he said. “he’s the one who drove.”

“Where is he?” Toriel asked.

“uh, probably still parking,” Sans said with another shrug. “he’s a great driver, but he still needs to work on stopping.”

Toriel laughed a little at that, taking her clawed hands off Frisk’s head. Their eye was still swollen and purple, but much less than before. Toriel sighed, standing up. As she turned around, Helen tightened her grip around Landon. The goat monster’s eyes widened as she caught sight of them.

“Oh dear,” Toriel said, raising a hand towards her fanged muzzle. “What happened here?”

Helen rubbed Landon’s arm. “That’s what I would like to know,” she said through tight lips.

Perhaps this could work in her favor. The monster didn’t know what Landon had been accused of yet. She just needed to talk to the principal without them present and get her son out of the building before they decided to retaliate, or worse—

“you don’t need to be so tense helen,” Sans said, making her jump.

He was holding the ice pack against Frisk’s eye again. The child was opening and closing their hand, and Helen could see that their palm was bright red from holding the ice pack.

“it’s not like you’re the one who punched someone,” Sans finished.

Landon let out a sob. The goat monster’s mouth dropped open.

“I told you before,” Helen said, holding her son’s head against her. “Landon is not like that. And I would appreciate it if you would not throw around false accusations until we have the full…story…”

She trailed off as the hairs on the back of her neck rose. Helen looked away from Sans, daring to face the source of the sudden pressure she felt.

Toriel stared back at Helen with a gaze that felt like it could light the air itself on fire. She tried to say something, but then she caught the glint of red in the goat monster’s eyes. Had that always been there?

Helen looked away, the pressure lifting a bit. Sans had always been disconcerting, but this was on a different level. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling either—Helen had felt it the moment she’d heard on the phone that Landon had been in a fight. That desire to protect your child at the cost of everything else—somehow this monster had taken that feeling and translated it into _fire_.

Helen decided that she didn’t want to push her luck and see if she made _literal_  fire as well.

In the moment that Helen looked away, the door to the principal’s office opened. Holding it wide enough for them all to walk through, the principal gestured for them to go inside with a thin smile.

The office was sparse and clean, with a few framed awards for Overridge Academy’s high overall test scores and thank yous for participating in charity events hanging on the walls. The principal’s desk itself only had a few scattered papers on it, sitting behind a polished nameplate.

The principal motioned again towards the two seats in front of the desk. The children sat down, Frisk’s legs swinging a few inches off the ground. Helen stood behind Landon’s chair, and Sans and Toriel stood on opposite sides of Frisk. Helen looked back down at Landon, spotting strings of green still in his hair. Had anyone even attempted to help him clean up?

“I’m sorry to have to call you all in here,” the principal said, taking their own seat behind the desk. “Especially you, Ms. Toriel. I hate to take you away from your class.”

Toriel gave the principal a small smile. “They are used to Mr. Fisher,” she said. “And there was a joint lesson planned for today anyway.” Helen saw her pat Frisk’s shoulder. “The well-being of my child comes first,” she finished.

The principal nodded and smiled back at her. “Of course,” they said.

“I agree,” Helen said, looking at the principal. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the goat monster’s head swivel in her direction. Helen didn’t dare look back out of fear of that pressure returning. She leaned forward, putting her hands on Landon’s shoulders.

“The well-being of _my_  child comes first,” Helen continued. “Landon has been assaulted and wrongly accused. And I hope that there is a good explanation for—”

The principal held up a hand to stop Helen’s sentence. “Yes, we will discuss all of that,” they said. “The reason that I kept you waiting was because I needed to finish speaking with the on-duty security officer. He was present in the cafeteria and saw the end of this altercation.”

Helen let go of Landon’s shoulders to talk with her hands. “So then why is Landon still—” she began.

“They saw your son punch Frisk Dreemur in the face, Mrs. Hall,” The principal said, cutting her off. “We still need security footage to verify the student reports about the first part of the argument, but the security officer has no reason to ‘wrongly accuse’ your son of anything.”

Helen leaned back, placing her hands on the top of the chair. “Then why is my son covered in slime?” she asked.

The principal folded their hands together. “Someone threw a Moldsmal at him while he was looking for a place to sit during lunch,” they said.

Helen blinked. “A _what_?” she asked.

“A slime monster,” Landon whispered.

Helen felt a surge of heat rush to her face. “Someone threw _a monster_  at my son, and we’re here discussing why he punched someone?” she said, her voice rising with every syllable. “ _Of course_  he attacked someone! Monsters can absorb human souls! His life was in danger!”

She could see Sans shaking his skull. The pressure from Toriel had increased, but Helen didn’t care anymore. She was just as livid.

“I already know the answer to this, but in the interest of placating Mrs. Hall, I will ask anyway,” the principal said, the calmness in their voice only upsetting Helen more. They turned towards Frisk and the monsters.

“Frisk, did you throw the Moldsmal at Landon?” the principal asked.

Frisk shook their head, the edges of their blunt cut bangs tapping against the ice pack.

“You can’t know that for sure,” Helen said, stepping out from behind the chair. She pointed her finger at the principal. “You just said that you need to check the security footage!”

“I’m certain that it’s not Frisk,” the principal said, shaking their head.

“Why?” Helen demanded. “Have you been taken over by their strange magic too?”

“Because,” the principal said, looking at Helen as if they were addressing a small child. “Frisk was one of the students who helped your son remove the monster from his hair.”

Helen dropped her hand, staring at the principal. “You’re joking,” she said. “What reason would they have to help Landon? How can you be sure that this isn’t just some plan to make themselves look like the victim when they were actually the ones who threw the monster?”

Her son sniffled behind her.

“Are you saying,” Toriel said behind her, voice low, “that my child created a situation where they would be injured for the sole purpose of getting your son in trouble?”

Helen didn’t turn around and she crossed her arms instead. “It’s the only logical explanation,” she said.

She heard Toriel take a breath in order to say something—

“helen, they’re just _kids_ ,” Sans said, walking up next to her. “and, uh, i don’t think anybody dislikes your kid enough that they’d try something like that.”

Helen worked her jaw, looking back down at his unchanging grin, but she had no response to that.

“We are still investigating who threw the monster,” the principal said.

“it might’ve been one of the monster kids,” Sans offered. “i used to throw them at papyrus when we were younger.”

“ _Sans_ ," Toriel whispered.

“i moved on to whoopee cushions after that,” he said with a shrug. “and it doesn’t hurt either monster if you just want to make another one slimy.”

The principal nodded in Sans’s direction. “Thank you for the cultural note,” they said.

“eh, i don’t think it’s a cultural thing,” Sans said, winking. “kids will be kids anywhere.”

The principal smiled. “Thank you all the same,” they said. “That does give us a potential motive. But for now, we need to focus on the actions of the students currently in this room.”

Helen’s jaw felt like it would crack from the pressure she’d put on it. How were they having such a civil conversation about this? Landon had been _assaulted_ , and here they were, blaming him for protecting himself while listening to stories from the skeleton’s childhood.

“The motive doesn’t matter!” Helen said, finding her voice again. “My son’s very _existence_  was threatened today. None of this would be happening if it weren’t for the child sitting _right there_!” She pointed behind her towards Frisk. “Every problem that has happened in this school has been a direct result of these monsters coming here, and I will not stand for this anymore.”

The principal raised an eyebrow at her. “ _Every_  problem?” they repeated.

“Every problem that _I’ve_  encountered,” Helen continued. She slammed a hand on the desk, causing the principal to jump and Sans’s pupils to shrink for a split second. “They need to be removed from this campus immediately!” Helen said.

The principal recovered fast, straightening their posture. “Mrs. Hall,” they said, “We are here to discuss the situation between these two students and decide on a course of action. You are not in a position to tell me how to run my school.”

Helen laughed. “ _Your_  school?” she said. “ _Your_  school.” She shook her head as she repeated it, pointing her finger back at herself. “I have dedicated so many hours of my time to this school and its PTA to make sure that my son has the education that he deserves. My husband has donated a sum of money so large that we could have just bought this place ourselves. But _no_ , we decided to trust the system, and trust that those actions were enough to make sure that this school would know that we were serious about how our boy would be treated.”

Helen swept her hand towards the monsters. “And then _they_  show up!” she shouted. “With their magic and slime and horns and bad jokes and _who knows what else_!”

She paused, catching her breath. “Everything I’ve worked for is changing because of them,” she said. “And I won’t tolerate it anymore. Not here.” She jammed her pointer finger on the surface of the desk. “Not. At. My. School.”

The silence that fell afterwards rang in Helen’s ears. Everything was still for a moment.

The principal folded their hands on top of the desk again. “I believe that you’re operating under a severe misunderstanding, Mrs. Hall,” they said, their voice cold.

Helen’s stomach dropped. She pulled her hand away from the desk.

“While your years of volunteer work are greatly appreciated, this is not _your_  school. Nor is it solely for your son,” the principal continued. “This school belongs to every student, teacher, and family member who walks through its doors. And _I_  am the one who runs it, not you.”

Helen tried to catch her breath. The edges of her vision grew fuzzy.

“We will continue the investigation into who tried to humiliate your son, but I cannot let his actions go unpunished,” the principal continued. “And because of your refusal to cooperate with this discussion and your presumptions about where your standing is in this school, I will go ahead with the punishment that I initially had in mind.”

The principal placed their palms on their desk and stood up, staring right back at Helen with a frown. “For his violence and refusal to admit guilt and apologize, he will be suspended for the next week. This is not a point I will negotiate on, Mrs. Hall,” they said as Helen opened her mouth to protest. “I will not tolerate students harming each other during this time of transition.”

Helen closed her mouth and swallowed. She nodded, putting her hands on Landon’s shoulders, silent. She could feel the monster’s stares digging into her.

“Where can I collect my son’s belongings?” Helen asked, looking at a spot on the wall above the principal’s head.

“One of the office assistants will go to Landon’s classroom and bring his things back to you,” the principal said.

Helen nodded, letting go of her son’s shoulders with a pat. “Let’s go home, Landon,” she said.

She looked at the monsters as Landon stood up from his chair. Only Sans was looking back at her. Toriel had turned away, and her body blocked any view Helen might’ve had of Frisk. Helen stared back into Sans’s eye sockets.

“You’re banned from the bake sale,” she said in a flat tone. “You and all other monsters. I don’t want any one of you there.”

Sans’s eyes squinted in confusion. “uh, ok,” he said. “not really sure you can do that, but ok.”

“No, she can’t,” the principal said behind her. “Mrs. Hall, I must remind you—"

Helen took Landon by the hand and led him out of the principal’s office.

She couldn’t breathe until the door closed shut behind them.

 


End file.
